


Shut Down

by pinstripedJackalope



Series: TSC Oneshots [6]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Bad Pop Songs, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Healthy Relationships, Intimacy, Light Bondage, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Not much but it's there, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Sex, Shutdowns, it starts as sex but it turns into talking, or the start of it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/pseuds/pinstripedJackalope
Summary: Alec shuts down during sex and they have a talk about it.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: TSC Oneshots [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659478
Comments: 12
Kudos: 187
Collections: Hunter's Moon Fic Recs





	Shut Down

It’s a normal Friday night when Alec and Magnus fall into bed, the two of them wrapped tight around each other. Magnus breathes all of Alec in as he feels Alec’s bare chest push up against his bare chest, lips locked and Alec’s hands digging into his hair.

“What do you want, darling?” Magnus asks against him, fingers at the ready to snap whatever Alec says into existence. 

“I want whatever you want,” Alec says back, feverishly pressing his lips to Magnus’s jaw, and isn’t _that_ a heady feeling. Whatever Magnus wants… he could say anything. Do anything. Have anything.

…There’s only one thing that comes to mind. “Let me take control,” he says. “Let me make you feel good.”

Alec moans, already nodding. “The ropes?” he asks.

Magnus can almost feel the blood shooting through his system, pulsing through his cock, at those words. They’ve only played with the ropes once—it was an experiment, one that both of them concluded would be repeated again and, perhaps, again after that. Now is the _perfect_ time for the second occasion. 

Magnus pulls back after one last kiss, snapping his fingers as he goes. The ropes, dark purple to contrast against Alec’s pale skin, appear, one on either side of Magnus, waiting in the air for his instruction. Alec lets out a careless grin, raising his hands up to the headboard and wriggling his fingers. Magnus takes the ropes one at a time, snaking them forward and winding them around Alec's wrists and tightening to bind him there.

Once he has Alec where he wants him, Magnus grins. He drags his eyes up and down Alec’s bare form, snapping his fingers once more for the bottle of lube that lives in the bedside drawer. Alec is looking right back, he finds, as he brings his eyes back to Alec’s flushed face. 

Magnus’s heart goes soft for a moment. Alec is so attentive, so responsive—part of it is just because he’s young and mostly inexperienced, but a bigger part of it is the fact that that’s just how he is. It’s second nature to him to make his lover feel like he’s the only other man on this earth, like Alec has never and could never have eyes for anyone else. Magnus has never felt as wholly seen as he does with Alec.

“You ready?” he breathes out, climbing up between Alec’s legs. He waits for Alec’s flustered _yes_ before he leans down and presses his lips to his shadowhunter’s abs, working his way down.

Things are easy from there. Getting Alec’s cock all the way hard, prepping him, easing him open… it’s good, so good. Magnus sinks in, his cock lubed up and his hips pushing slowly forward.

Alec gasps. “Magnus—” he says, and Magnus hears the desire in his voice. He grins a cheshire grin, slowly pulling back out to push in faster. And then faster. And then _faster_. Until they hit a rhythm, until Alec is moaning with every thrust, his legs curled around Magnus’s waist.

It’s here that things begin to go wrong.

Magnus is so far into the feeling of having Alec all around him that it takes him a moment to realize when Alec goes quiet, no longer responding to him. He curses himself for the momentary lapse as soon as he realizes what’s happened, stopping what he’s doing immediately. He pauses mid-thrust and rests a hand on Alec’s warm side. 

“Alexander? Sweetheart?” he says, just in case he’s misreading things. Or, alternatively, just in case Alec just got momentarily overwhelmed and wants to get right back to what they were doing, which happens sometimes. Less, now that they’ve had a healthy sex life for a good while, but still occasionally.

He was right to stop, however. He isn’t misreading things. Alec does not seem to want to get right back to what they’re doing. Alec is, in fact, completely still, eyes open but distant, his jaw slack and his hands immobile in their bonds. His legs are no longer tight around Magnus, his knees barely brushing Magnus’s sides. He’s breathing but it’s shallow, slow and stuttering.

“Alexander?” Magnus says again, voice lower and more careful this time. Still no response. He bites his lip and slides slowly out, his cock no longer fully hard. Having your partner become unresponsive underneath you is a definite mood killer. 

It takes but a moment after that to undo the ropes binding Alec’s hands to the bed frame. “Did I hurt you, love?” Magnus asks softly, hovering over him, ready to take care of any pain he’s caused. This seems like an unusual reaction to pain, but Magnus will never forgive himself if he hurt Alec.

The hands in question stay up for a moment as if Alec is frozen in place, as if he doesn’t even realize that the ropes are gone. Then they slowly fall, arms curling up against his chest. Alec doesn’t look at him, but his head slowly twitches to one side and then the other, a clear no.

“What’s wrong?” Magnus asks next, anxiety growing in his chest. He’s never seen Alec look so… distant. Like he’s shut down, disengaged completely from the situation at hand. Decidedly not what you want to happen when you’re in the middle of fucking, Magnus thinks. He waits for a long moment, decidedly on edge, to see if Alec will—or can—respond, but Alec doesn’t. Magnus’s anxiety ratchets up another notch.

“Okay,” Magnus whispers, running a hand through his hair distractedly. He’s not sure why he feels the need to lower his voice but it feels better, safer. For the first time in probably decades he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what comes next. Does he touch Alec? Does he leave the room? Will Alec come out of this on his own or does he need help? Does he need his sister, his _parabatai_? How would his siblings even help? 

…What does Magnus _do_? 

He doesn’t know. All he knows is that while he’s never been a self-conscious kind of person, he’s suddenly very conscious of the fact that they’re both buck naked, skin sticky and genitals out, and it’s certainly not helping with… well, whatever the heck is going on.

“I’m going to give you some pants, okay, darling?” Magnus says. Alec still doesn’t respond, so Magnus bites his lip and waves a finger in the air, conjuring up some sweatpants around Alec’s legs. Then he turns away, giving Alec a moment to himself as he conjures up a pair of pajama pants to pull on. Magnus takes the moment to center himself, scrubbing his hands up and down his face and breathing deeply, before he turns back around.

Alec, he finds, has moved in the time it took to pull on pants. He now has both hands pressed over his face, hiding behind them. His knees are pressed together, folded up toward his chest, toes curled into the sheets. He’s completely still except for a slight tremor in his fingers, chest barely rising with each breath. 

Magnus’s heart breaks silently at the sight, though he doesn’t fully understand why. All he knows is that Alec is not supposed to look like this. He’s not supposed to look like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible, to take up the least amount of space, to keep himself quiet. He’s supposed to feel good and cry out and share sloppy kisses with Magnus as Magnus makes him cum.

“Okay,” Magnus whispers again. He slowly approaches the bed, climbing up beside Alec and curling up on his side facing the shadowhunter. His hand hovers but does not touch. “I need you to tell me what you need. Can you do that?”

For a long moment, Alec is motionless, frozen. Then he slowly moves his head, hands still covering his face, side to side once, another clear no.

Magnus bites his lip again. This is… not ideal. But they’ve been in much worse situations before; he’ll be damned if whatever this is is what gets the better of them.

“Okay,” he says again, soft and careful. He shifts so that he’s facing the ceiling, taking the pressure of his gaze off of Alec. He flits his eyes over for just long enough to catch Alec’s response as he asks, “What if I just talked for a little while? Do you think that would help?”

A pause, and then the slightest nod encourages Magnus to clear his throat and begin speaking.

He’s not sure, at first, what he plans to say. Does he want to talk about his adventures with Ragnor in Peru? Some thoughts on his favorite movie, Mean Girls? His plans for dinner later? He isn’t sure what Alec would appreciate at a time like this, to be quite honest. When he opens his mouth, however, the words come out almost immediately—lyrics, softly spoken at first and then, slowly, as he gains confidence, sung into the space between them.

“Do you ever feel… like a plastic bag… drifting through the wind… wanting to start again…? Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin… like a house of cards, one blow from caving in…?” He pauses, looking over at Alec. Alec hasn’t moved, hasn’t lowered his hands. He’s as still as a statue. But he’s listening—Magnus can tell that he is. 

Magnus breathes in, letting the melody wash over them both. “Do you ever feel already buried deep, six feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing? Do you know that there’s still a chance for you? ‘Cause there’s a spark in you, you just gotta igniiite… the liiight… and leeet… it shiiine… just ooown the niiight like the fourth of July—’cause baby you’re a fiiirewooork, come on show ‘em whaaat you’re wooorth—make ‘em go ‘ah, ah, ah’ as you _shoot_ across the sky—eye—eye—”

Alec doesn’t move as Magnus keeps going, pushing through to the second chorus. Magnus, on the other hand, has snatched up a hairbrush from the table beside him and is singing animatedly into it, hoping against hope that enough antics will startle a laugh out of Alec. It’s awkward, singing to an unresponsive audience, but heck, Magnus has done worse than sung an unwarranted song to an inert lover. And, though he’s maybe laying it on a little thick with the performance, he finds soon enough that he’s rewarded with a reaction from Alec, if a small one. A low snort here, the twitch of his cheek there… and then, all at once, the shadowhunter’s hands fall away from his face, revealing half-lidded eyes and a small smile.

“There you are, darling,” Magnus breathes, letting the hairbrush fall away from his face, trying not to frighten Alec back into whatever shutdown he’s having. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Alec shakes his head, eyes flitting to Magnus and then away again. He opens his mouth and makes a small sound, like a half-articulated word, before wincing and closing it again. He shakes his head, dragging both hands down his face.

“Come on, try again,” Magnus encourages, curling up beside Alec and reaching carefully out for his hand. He strokes Alec’s fingers, slow and deliberate, eyes intent on him. “I’m waiting to hear that lovely voice.”

Alec huffs. Then he opens his mouth again, pushing past the obvious tightness in his throat to say, “Sorry.”

“No, no, none of that,” Magnus says immediately, bringing Alec’s fingers to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of Alec’s hand. “Whatever happened, I’m not upset with you.”

“—Should be,” Alec says, and his voice is low and hoarse. He lets out a self-deprecating laugh, dark and bitter, his eyes cutting away from Magnus once more and settling on the far side of the room.

Magnus shakes his head. “Alexander. I’m not going to be mad about…”

He falters. He still doesn’t know what this was. A shutdown of some sort, he presumes, but about what? Why did Alec just go dark like that? What did he do _wrong_?

As if catching his thoughts, Alec shakes his head. He takes his first deep breath in at least ten minutes, fully filling his lungs, before he takes his hand back from Magnus and pushes himself up to put his back against the headboard. His hands come up to his chest, his arms folding across it as if he’s not feeling very comfortable in his own skin. 

They’re quiet for another long moment, the space between them a chasm. Magnus is just wondering if he should start singing again when Alec clears his throat and manages to rasp, “It’s, um… it happens sometimes when I get overwhelmed.”

Ah. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Magnus asks. _What I did to overwhelm you_ , he doesn’t say.

“I don’t…” Alec raises a hand to his face, scrubbing harshly up and down. He settles with his hand pressed over his eyes, blocking them from view. “I just… I don’t _know_? It was good and then I just—”

He makes a short, crude gesture with his other hand and Magnus realizes with a clench of his heart that Alec has pressed his lips together and is trying very hard not to cry. “Darling…” he says softly. 

Alec just shakes his head. 

Magnus sighs. This isn’t new territory. They’ve been here before. They’ve talked about Alec’s self-esteem issues often, have gone back and forth many a time, each exposing their own insecurities to the other in the dark of night. Still, it’s one thing to talk about it in low voices in the safety of an evening in the loft, and quite another to watch Alec lash out and turn his self-hatred outward or, such as the case may be, turn it inward and _break down_. Neither is exactly pleasant, but good _god_ does it hurt in a very distinct way to see Alec actively struggling to hold himself together.

“I just—just—got caught up in my head about trying to please you and suddenly it was too much and before I knew it I was closing off and fuck, I feel like such a fucking _freak_ ,” Alec bursts out. “Can’t even have sex without—without— _fuck_ —”

Before Magnus can stop him, he brings his fisted hand down on his own thigh, frustration leaking from him. Magnus clenches his teeth—not in anger, but to stop himself from darting forward and grabbing Alec’s wrists to stop him from doing it again. He takes a deep breath. “Alexander—”

But Alec is already deflating, pressing his hands back to his face. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it when I—I’m sorry.”

Magnus touches his shoulder, sighing a little. “I don’t like it because it makes me feel like I’ve failed you when you hurt yourself,” he says softly, earnestly. “I’m supposed to make you feel good, I’m supposed to… to help you deal with the hard things. I’m not supposed to sit back and watch as you tear yourself apart.”

“Sometimes it feels like that’s all I ever do,” Alec says, muffled through his fingers. “Like there’s something wrong with me and I can’t stop pressing my own self-destruct button. The last thing I want is to make you deal with that.”

“I’m not ‘dealing with’ anything,” Magnus says. He turns fully toward Alec, settling with his legs criss-crossed on the sheets. “I love you, Alexander. I—would you look at me?”

Alec sniffles, wiping his face clean of tears before he turns his blue eyes over to Magnus. 

Magnus smiles, stroking his thumb down Alec’s cheek. “There we go, darling. Now, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again—loving you isn’t a burden that I put up with. It’s a beautiful thing that I choose to do every moment of every day because you are _worth it_. It doesn’t matter that you’re not perfect—I’m not either. You’re not a freak, and you’re not a screw-up, and you’re not unlovable. You are my Alexander and I want to help, okay? Let me help.”

“…I don’t know how you can help,” Alec admits, sniffling again. 

Magnus hums. “To start with… what can I do better? What can I do to help you not get overwhelmed?”

“Get me a new head?” Alec suggests.

“Mannequin or doll?” Magnus asks, a twinkle in his eye as he raises his hand to snap. He’s rewarded with a laugh as Alec grabs his wrist to stop him. “I wouldn’t suggest a taxidermied one, but perhaps a plushie—?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Alec says, shaking his head.

God, it’s good to hear Alec laugh. “I’m fabulous and you love me,” Magnus croons, knocking his forehead against Alec’s temple. “Seriously, though, is there anything—?”

Alec bites his lip. “I just… it helps when you tell me what to do. To… make you feel good.”

Magnus grins, nuzzling against the flush creeping up Alec’s cheeks. “I can do that, love.”

“Okay.”

“And if you shut down again, what should I do? Would you be more comfortable if I went and got Jace or Izzy—?”

Alec winces. “No—god, no. Just, um. What you did tonight was good.”

The grin curving across Magnus’s face gets wider. “Sing embarrassing pop songs, got it.”

Alec groans. “That’s not—well, I mean—”

“Sweetheart, if it works it works. Don’t question it.”

“Fine.”

Magnus hums. “Anything else?”

Alec takes a moment to think before he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is good, this is progress.” Magnus cuddles closer to Alec, leaning into him as Alec tries to stifle a yawn. “You’re tired. Time to sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Alec protests. “Didn’t you want to… finish—?”

“Oh, believe me, I do,” Magnus says. “But not right now, love. Right now I want to fall asleep holding you in my arms.”

“Sap,” Alec says, shaking his head, but he’s already curling up and tucking his forehead under Magnus’s chin.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not autistic but I’ve had anxiety attacks that resemble shutdowns. It’s not dissociation/derealization because I’m still very much present, it’s just that I get so caught up in my head that I can’t move and can’t speak. It’s like suddenly moving/speaking is a hundred times harder than it should be. This is also probably related to selective mutism. Idk, all I know is that it happens to me and psychology is a strange, strange thing.
> 
> Comments are appreciated!


End file.
